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A TERRIBLE TERMAGANT
There are few experiences in life more tantaliz
ing than the one of being nagged at every day and
almost constantly. Bnt this is the fate which had
befallen Tom and Billie Cranston.
They were a hapless pair, in that they had lost
their mother long before their baby eyes had caught
and retained the image of her madonna face. Their
father, having been happily married the first time,
repeated the experiment at the earliest available
moment, and endowed Tom and Billie with one
of the most Vixenish step-mothers who ever ruled
a household.
Tom and Billie dreaded her; for she was, in ev
ery sense, dreadful. Her long suit was saying hard
things all the time to everybody. Her speech was
as cutting as a north-east wind, and her sarcasm
would change the expression on the countenance
of a corpse. Nothing had ever been known to stay
in the house with her all day except a pet alligator
and a half-tamed house-cat.
Mr. Cranston only paid her “pop” calls, and
Tom and Billie never ventured beneath the roof
until Mrs. Cranston’s ceaseless tirade of bitterness
had spent itself in sheer exhaustion—then they
crept in noiselessly and stole to bed.
They called the home of their paternal ancestor,
“Devil’s Den,” and always alluded to Mrs. Cran
ston as “Panny,” which was their native abbre
viation for pandemonium.
Tom and Billie worked in the fields each dav,
performing the services of laborers on the farm,
never even guessing that thev were undergoing
some rather bittei- experiences. With the philoso
phy of childhood, they accepted their surroundings
as a matter of course, and, like Mark Tapley,,
“came out strong” without being conscious of it.
They were the kind of heroes who never have
any monuments, members of a nobility who never
wear the insignia of rank.
They never ventured bodily into the house after
a day of toil—oh, no; they loved peace too well.
They always preferred to creep first under the
house—far under—where they listened to learn
the state of “Fanny’s” disposition. If they heard
her rattling the pots and pans, yelling at the cat
and excoriating some inoffensive neighbor, they
waited patiently for the storm to spend its force,
then they crept around the back way, and diplo
matically kept their own counsel.
Mr. Cranston had become cognizant of this cus
tom of Tom’s and Billie’s, but not knowing any
better plan to suggest and being a lover of peace
himself, he wisely refrained from making any com
ments or suggestions.
On one evening in particular, Tom and Billie,
after a hard day’s toil, turned their steps towards
this house of confusion. Tired and very hungry
they approached the house cautiously, stopping,
ever and anon, to listen.
Finally Tom spoke: “At it again!” “At
what?” asked Billie.
“Fussin’,” said Tom. “0!” replied Billie, “I
thought you meant she was at bein’ quiet. I know
she was once when we came home. Let’s crawl un
der.” “Yes,” answered Tom; “we can’t go in,
you know.”
Mrs. Cranston "was holding forth at the top of
her voice. The cat had even crawled up on the
•corner of the house-top, and was sitting there pa
tiently in the moonlight.
Billie hesitated a moment. His face assumed a
wistful expression.
“Tom, I’m mighty hungry—ain’t you?” “Course
I am,” answered Tom; “but what can we do?”
With a boldness that actually startled Tom, Bil
lie replied, “Le’s risk one eye at “Panny.” Tom
turned pale with fear; but an empty stomach is a
counsellor of rash deeds. “You go first,” he said.
Their reckless courage could not have been ex
celled by Pickett himself. They resolutely entered
By Arthur L. Hardy
The Golden Age for April 5, 1906
the hallway, and made a dash for the kitchen. Alas,
and alack, Mrs. Cranston spied them.
“Here you come, you good for nothing scalawags,
at this time o’ night.”
“Billie,” Tom whispered; le’s grab sumpin’ t’
eat and run.”
They made a dive for the cup-board, snatched up
a dilapidated looking ham bone and a handful of
biscuit, and dashed out into the night. They sought
an old work bench out in the silent grove, and fin
ished their insufficient repast, then circled back
noiselessly to the house.
Under the house, with the fortitude of their pre
historic forbears—the cave dwellers—Tom and Bil
lie went. There they lay, fighting the insidious ap
proach of slumber, and the gnawing attack of a
hunger only known to healthy youth.
Mrs. Cranston held forth at great length and
with much bitterness until the clock struck nine.
Then the parental instinct asserted itself, and Mr.
Cranston grew uneasy about Tom and Billie. He
went out without speaking, and decided to seek
them first under the house. He dared not call to
them; for he had a mortal dread of discovering
their hiding place to “Panny;” so he went crawl
ing up to where they were concealed. Mrs. Cran
ston, meanwhile, was making the night hideous
with vitriol and spleen.
Billie and Tom heard their father’s approach—
their hearts were stirred with pity. In chorus they
cried, “Papa, is she after you, too?” “No,” re
plied Mr. Cranston, as the humor of the situation
dawned upon him, “she’s been making a good long
speech, and I thought I’d come under here and let
her bring down the house.”
“Le’s get out quick, before she does,” said Tom,
who dreaded her unlimited possibilities.
“Bill Arp.”
{Continued from first page)
twenty-two preceding it makes it still longer. I
was born in 1826, the year in which the first suc
cessful trial of steam was made. I have lived to
see it revolutionize the world, run its course, and
be supplanted by electricity. The post office sys
tem, has grown to perfection, to be largely set aside
by the telephone and telegraph. In my young days
there were no steel pens, no matches, and but very
few things that we now enjoy. I think all things
are tending to the betterment of mankind.”
During the winter of 1903, Major Smith had an
attack of Grippe, followed by other complications,
from which he never rallied, and the following Au
gust (23rd) his grand spirit went to its Maker.
His funeral exercises were conducted from the
First Presbyterian Church at Cartersville, of which
he was an elder and a consistent member. His re
mains were laid to rest in Oak Hill Cemetery.
“The bright, the diamond-pointed pen,
Has fallen from his weary fingers,
And on the lips which spoke high truth to men,
Death’s lowly silence lingers!”
English dispatches report the news that the Rus
sian government has prepared a naval programme
involving the expenditure of $100,000,000 during
the next two years, of which amount British ship
builders will secure a good share. The sum of $25,-
000,000, it is said has been allocated for four first
class battleships similar to those now building for
Japan.
The Rev. W. A. Doodwit, rector of old Bruton
church at Williamsburg, Va., announces that the
Bishop of London may assist at the ceremonies
attendant upon the restoration of the church and
preach the sermon at the consecration, when the
Bible presented by King Edward and the lectern
to be given by President Roosevelt, will be used
for the first time.
News of the Week.
The capital of Alaska is to be moved from Sitka
to Juneau.
Andrew Carnegie has given $15,000 to Millsap
College, Jackson, Miss., with the usual condition,
which was promptly met.
Mrs. Margaret Kelley, who has just celebrated
her 117th birthday in New York, is thought to be
the oldest woman in the world.
Scottish emigrants to the. number of 2,900, left
the Clyde March 24, on three steamships bound for
the United States and Canada.
The house committee upon naval affairs has de
cided upon a new battleship to cost $6,000,000, ex
clusive of armor and armament.
Mrs. Maude Bellington Booth has announced that
she will retire from t l, e lecture platform indefinitely
because of a threatened collapse.
All Andalusia, the garden of Spain, whose land
is owned by a few grandees, is on the point of star
vation, famine stalking in the country districts.
Dr. Jessie M. McGgregor, who died at her home
in Denver, Colorado, last week, was the possessor
of the highest degree ever attained by a woman
physician.
An Italian colony of twenty-five families, just
from their native land, will be located near Way
cross, Ga., the men given employment at a saw
mill, and the women and children in the fields.
'Count Zebblin is to build another air ship at
Manyell on the shores of Lake Constance. The Ger
man war office has all the necessary materials and
a large staff of experts and workmen at the ser
vice of the count.
The son born to Mr. and Mrs. John D. Rockefel
ler, Jr., at West Fifty-fourth street, near Fifth
Avenue, is heir presumptive to the greatest fortune
in the world, for the baby at its christening, will
be John D. Rockefeller, 111.
Marion Crawford, Count Soderini and Professor
Clementi are at work on a life of Pope Leo XIII,
to fill four volumes. They possess a great many un
published documents which Leo himself gave to
Count Soderini for this purpose.
The Countess, Rene Temple de Rougemont, for
merly Miss Edith Devereaux Clapp, has established
an American laundry at her husband’s country
place in France. The countess’ friends patronize
the laundry and pay good prices.
A movement has been begun among the members
of the thatrical profession in America to contrib
ute to an Anglo-American testimonial to Ellen
Terry, the actress, on the occasion of a jubilee
planned on the 50th anniversary of her career as
an actress.
The house committee on military affairs has au
thorized a favorable report on a bill authorizing
the secretary of war to accept for the government
a tract of land near Greenville, Tenn., where lie
the remains of Andrew Johnson, late president of
the United States, and establish the same as a
national cemetery of the fourth class.
The illness of John D. and William, the two
great geniuses of the Standard Oil trust, has brought
the affairs of that gigantic aggregation of capiatl
to a critical stage. Men in the financial district say
that the Standard has seen its greatest days, and
that from now on it will cease to be the aggressive
force it has been heretofore in financial ventures.